


precious things can break

by alcoholandregret



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Guilt, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Unrequited Love, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:08:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcoholandregret/pseuds/alcoholandregret
Summary: There are a lot of things that have happened over the past few months that Mikey wouldn't have expected, but here he is, and Nate loves him, and Mikey feels nothing. All those years, the anxious confessions, the lonely ache in his chest, learning it’s requited - poof. Gone. Au revoir, see you later, goodbye.It sucks. Nate doesn’t deserve this,fuckNate doesn’t deserve this at all, and Mikey’s a fucking horrible person.





	precious things can break

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Please Don't Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Aplin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PxNYvk_0Onw)
> 
> for the prompt 'why did you kiss me' and 'I'm hurt but I miss you'

There are a lot of things that have happened over the past few years that Mikey wouldn't have expected, and yet, looking back, it all feels so inevitable.

When meeting Nate for the first time at practice, he wouldn't have thought he'd fall for that same boy with messy hair and a too-loud laugh. He did, though.

When realising that, he wouldn't have thought he'd ever tell Nate. He did, though. Twice. It didn't matter either time. It's okay, it's fine, Nate's straight and Mikey didn't expect anything to come of it, just wanted to tell him. The disappointment is hard to shake in spite of that.

When trying to get the feelings to just go the fuck away, he wouldn't have thought they'd stick around for this many years. They did, though. They did, and it sucks, because having a crush on your best friend at sixteen like, it happens, y'know? And still having it at seventeen, well, they still spend all their time together, so it's bound to happen. And he tells him twice over that period of time, and it doesn't matter, and it should go away.

It doesn't.

Dylan sympathises, and they spend a stupid amount of time talking about how fucked they are over their best friends. Dylan's situation is a little worse, Mikey thinks, because while Nate just doesn't feel the same way, well. Dylan gets a half-requited mess of maybe and maybe not and feelings that shift like the tides. Mikey has nothing, and Dylan gets too many glimpses of what could be. It's not really fair, but c'est la vie.

He's nineteen and Nate isn't on his team anymore. He goes from seeing him essentially daily to basically never.

He should get over it. He doesn't.

Ryan comforts him as best as he can, but it's at the point where Mikey's just accepted it as a fact of his life. He's in love with Nathan Bastian and that's just the way life is. He can't shake it, but it's fine, he doesn't have to. It doesn't matter.

Nate comes out to him less than a month since the last time they saw each other. Mikey feels some hope blossom somewhere in his chest, but he tells himself that Nate must still know - he's told him twice. If he felt the same way, he'd tell him.

There are a lot of things that have happened over the past few months that Mikey wouldn't have expected, and yet, looking back, it all feels so inevitable.

He hadn't expected the phone calls.

He hadn't expected the drunken ramblings about too many feelings that make his head spin.

He hadn't expected Nate to tell him he has actual feelings for him, like, the same kind of feelings he's had for over four years.

He hadn't expected to stop feeling them barely over a week later.

He hadn't expected to feel his stomach turn any time Nate tells him he loves him.

He hadn't expected to stare at his screen as Nate calls him, just watching it until it sends him to voicemail.

But here he is, and Nate loves him, and Mikey feels nothing. All those years, the anxious confessions, the lonely ache in his chest, learning it’s requited - poof. Gone. Au revoir, see you later, goodbye.

It sucks. It fucking _sucks_ and he would rather go back to the lonely ache. Nate doesn’t deserve this, _fuck_ Nate doesn’t deserve this at all, and Mikey’s a fucking horrible person.

“Hey,” Nate smiles softly the moment he sees Mikey and it makes his stomach turn, which isn’t necessarily a new sensation when he does that, but this time it’s less butterflies and more nausea.

“Hey,” he returns the smile anyway, and it shouldn’t be so difficult to do that.

“I’m so fuckin’ glad you’re here.” He pulls him into a hug, mumbling, “welcome to Bing.”

“Yeah,” Mikey slowly wraps his arms around his friend too, “glad to be here.”

-

_“It was a good purchase,” Mikey laughs, lighting the strangely shaped candle, “like, c’mon Ry.”_

_“You’re so fucking weird, man,” Ryan sighs, stretching himself across the couch._

_“It was three dollars, you’re telling me this isn’t worth three dollars?”_

_“Could be worse.”_

_“Exactly.”_

_Mikey falls back onto the chair, swinging his legs over the side of it. When he goes to speak again, his phone starts ringing in his pocket._

_“Nater?” Ryan asks, looking up from his own phone._

_“Yeah,” he smiles at the screen for a moment before answering it. “‘Sup Bas?”_

_“I might be. A little drunk.”_

_“Alright,” Mikey laughs, sinking into the chair a little. “Prouda you.”_

_“I had? A lot of shots. I don’t. I don’t remember whose vodka this is.”_

_“Oh my fucking god, Nathan.”_

_Ryan throws a pillow at him, “tell ‘im about your stupid fucking candle.”_

_“Oh, fuck, yeah okay so Ryan and I went to Walmart-”_

-

“I can show you around some, if you want. We can get dinner and stuff, y’know? I’ve missed you,” Nate’s still fucking grinning when he pulls back, and Mikey struggles to keep his on his fake-happy face while he nods.

“Yeah, bud. Dinner sounds great.”

“I figured. We’ll stop at the hotel first though, yeah?”

“Whatever works with you,” Mikey shrugs, gesturing aimlessly with one hand. “Lead the way.”

-

_There’s a few moments of silence on the other line while Mikey talks to Ryan about something Matty sent him, and Nate interrupts him mid-sentence._

_“I know I tell you this all the time, but like, I love you so much. So much. Like, if I told you I love you every time I thought about it I would tell you every two minutes.”_

_“I love you too, Bas,” Mikey laughs._

_“So much. Oh my god, you have no idea.”_

_“I think I have a pretty good idea,” he says, barely managing to make that not sound bitter._

_“You’re so important to me, okay? The most important.”_

_“You’re important to me too. I miss you.”_

_“I wanna. Fuck I just wanna hold your hand right now I’m gonna start crying. I need to drink more.”_

_“No, get some water.”_

_“I wanna tell you I love you and I can’t do it unless I’m drunk? And I do. Love you.”_

_“Nate-”_

_“Vodka is gross.”_

_“Yeah. Yeah it is.”_

-

“Sorry about the playoffs,” Nate says solemnly once they get into his car.

Mikey can’t even look at him, instead electing to rest his head against the window and stare at the unfamiliar buildings as they pass them. It doesn’t do enough to distract him from what feels like the most unfamiliar familiar person in his life right now. Then again, nothing can do that, probably.

“It happens.”

“Are you okay?”

He reaches over and puts a hand on Mikey’s knee, and it takes every ounce of control he has not to flinch away from it, the waves of _wrong, wrong, wrong_ crashing against the walls of his stomach. All he wanted all season was to come here, to see Nate again, and now all he wants is out of this fucking car.

“Fine, just tired I guess.”

“You can get some rest,” he says softly, pulling his hand back - Mikey feels like he can breathe again, just a little - “we don’t have to go anywhere right away.”

He doesn’t want to say no. Wants so badly to go out with his best friend and pretend that things are okay. Fake it ‘til you make it. Maybe not seeing Nate for so long is what caused this, after all. Then again, you shouldn’t stop loving someone just because they’re not right in front of you. That isn’t how it works, and it’s not fair.

_No, we can go,_ his brain says.

“I think I’ll take a quick nap, actually,” his mouth says.

“Whatever’s best for you.”

Mikey could cry, probably.

-

_“I’m sorry I know I keep saying it, but-”_

_“You’re fine.”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I love you too. I miss you.”_

_Nate has an excuse here, that’s the thing. He’s drunk off his ass, so he gets like, a free pass for this. Mikey is one-hundred percent sober, so anything he says he’ll be held accountable for. Still, he can’t help himself._

_“It’s weird, y’know? I got so used to you being here all the time and seeing you every fuckin’ day, but I haven’t seen you in months and it isn’t fair.”_

_“I knoooow.”_

_“It’s like,” he huffs at himself, knowing this is far too fucking sappy for like 11pm on a Tuesday, “I never thought I’d have a life without you in it. Now it feels like I do and I hate every second of it.”_

_“Exactly that’s- that’s exactly it.”_

_Ryan looks over at him, mouthing ‘wow,’ and Mikey shrugs._

_“Hey Nate? I’m sorry but I gotta go. Car needs gas and I have to get some before I forget to.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“I’ll call you when I get back if you’re still up?”_

_“Okay. Yeah. I love you so much.”_

_“I love you so much too. See ya.”_

_“Bye, Mikey.”_

_Mikey pockets his phone and puts his head in his hands. This is so bad. This is so fucking bad, he can’t keep doing this shit to himself. He won’t stop, though, not when he still loves how his name sounds coming out of Nate’s mouth. How it sounds even better tacked on the end of ‘I love you.’_

_He still loves it, and always will. Set in stone, written in the stars, etched into his heart - Nate._

_“That was so fucking much, dude,” Ryan says, and he sounds sorry._

_“He’s drunk,” he explains with a wave of his hand. “God knows the shit I’ve said to him when drunk. It happens.”_

_“Not like that.”_

_“Yes like that. It’s just how we are, Ry, you know that. We always do this.”_

_“Yeah, I know you do,” he sighs like he knows something Mikey doesn’t. Maybe he does, but Mikey knows this. Knows Nate. The feelings just aren’t mutual. Sure, Nate definitely does love him, he’d never doubt that, but not in that way. Not in the way that makes his chest ache so badly he feels completely empty on the worst days, hollowed out entirely from the absence of returned affection._

_He doesn’t need to get gas. He won’t call Nate later._

_He just couldn’t fucking take any more of that._

_Mikey starts to understand Dylan a little more, then. Too many glimpses of what could be._

-

The moment the hotel room door shuts, Mikey leans against it, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground, face in his hands. Three months. Three fucking _months_ and he still hasn’t gotten it together. For three months he’s had to remind himself that he _does_ love Nate every single time he says it. Because he does. Honestly. He knows it’s a certifiable fact that he very much so loves his best friend, even if it isn’t in the same way it used to be.

He knows it.

So why the fuck doesn’t he feel it?

Even if - fine, say this is a normal thing that happens - even if he managed to go from Head Over Heels In Love with Nate to _not_ being that, he shouldn’t have lost all feeling. He shouldn't have. Logically, he should have jumped at the chance to spend time together, but instead he can’t even bear to _look_ at him.

It’s bad. It’s so much goddamn worse than he thought it could possibly be, and it’s sucking all of the air out of him.

_Superbuddies reunited,_ his brain says, and another wave of nausea hits him so hard he actually doubles over.

He can’t do this. He can’t.

He can’t tell Nate. Not when he’d told him he still felt the same. Not after everything.

He can’t not tell Nate. Can’t play pretend.

Can’t fucking handle any of this.

-

_“Did I actually cry because of how much I loved you last night?” Nate says the next morning the moment Mikey answers his phone._

_“I mean, you said you were going to. I don’t know if you actually did.”_

_He’s not awake enough for this, thanks._

_“Oh my god,” Nate laughs and the sound fills Mikey’s chest with the warmth only he can cause. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”_

_He rolls his eyes. “I already told you that you don’t have to apologise. It’s fine.”_

_“I know, I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable-”_

_“Shut the fuck up, Nate. There’s no uncomfortable with us.”_

_“I know. I love you.”_

_“I love you too.”_

-

He tries focusing on his breathing as best as he can, letting the back of his head hit the door with a dull thud.

It’s only a couple games, he tells himself, just a couple of games here and then they both go home and he doesn’t _have_ to see Nate-

This is so fucked up. Holy fucking shit.

Mikey didn’t see this being how his season ended. Bitter defeat far too early in the playoffs in a series that wore the whole team down to their bones, only to go down to Bing - to start this next chapter in his career - and spend his first moments nearly crying in a hotel room, thinking about how best to avoid his best friend.

Avoiding feelings is far easier than avoiding the absence of them, it turns out.

He wasn’t lying, at least. He’s dead fucking tired, but he also knows there’s no way in hell he’s actually going to be able to take a nap. He almost wonders if he’ll be able to sleep at all while he’s here. It seems unlikely.

He wasn’t lying, at least, he thinks to himself as he starts to unpack his bag a little. Not when he told Nate he was tired, yeah, but he means when he-

When he-

Fuck.

-

_‘I didn’t mean to take up your whole day’ Nate texts him after they finally end the phone call that night._

_‘if I didn’t wanna talk to u I woulda hung up’_

_‘I guess. Sorry anyway.’_

_Mikey goes to respond, but the typing bubble is still there, so he waits._

_‘I love you so much and I know you’re probably tired of hearing it but I love you more than anything and you just make me really happy’_

_He wants to hit his head off a fucking wall._

_‘stop it bas. u r the most important thing to me and I love u too.’_

_That’s the end of that._

_It’s the end of it until nearly two in the morning, and if you asked Mikey why he was still awake, he definitely wouldn’t have an answer for it, but he doesn’t regret it. He doesn’t regret it one bit when he gets a text from Nate, and he opens it, and-_

_‘I never thought I’d tell you this but-’_

_Holy shit. Neither did Mikey._

_‘-I like you more than just bros and like I wasn’t really hiding it-”_

_No kidding._

_‘-I just wanted to get it off my chest-’_

_Yeah, he knows that game. Twice._

_‘-keeping it to myself was killing me-’_

_Yeah. He knows that game. Twice._

_‘-I’m so sorry fuck’_

_It feels like every single cell in his body is vibrating now, and he’s definitely actually shaking. It makes sense, logically. The drunken call last night, and then being on the phone all damn day - not to mention he lost count of how many times Nate called him cute at seven - it should all have added up to this._

_Four years._

_‘I def told u how I felt before but like. same. hard fuckin same man I left just bros years ago. I love u so much ok’_

-

Maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut, he reasons as he washes his face just to be doing something else. Like, if he hadn’t said the feelings were mutual, and just said it was okay and nothing needed to change and whatever the hell else Nate had told him _twice,_ it wouldn’t have led to this.

Maybe he still would have lost the feelings, but even if he did, he wouldn’t be in this position. Wouldn’t put _Nate_ in this position.

Looking at it logically, he knows he isn’t the person that’s going to get hurt here. Nate is.

And it’s going to be his fault. Might as well bite the bullet.

_hey I’m ready to go out now if u still want to do that_

_Ofc I do. Be by soon_

_k_

In retrospect, maybe ‘go out’ was a severely poor choice of words, but there are bigger fish to fry here.

He almost laughs at that - probably would have, were it under different circumstances.

Nate is, in fact, the biggest fish Mikey has ever had to fry.

-

_‘I know you told me how u felt before but that was so long ago n u never brought it back up again’_

_‘it didn’t feel worth it’_

_It’s almost painful to say, but it’s the truth. It’s been pointless. Like, he only wanted to put his heart out there so many times. The first two didn’t hurt all that bad, but third time’s a charm, right?_

_‘I left just bros years ago too’_

_He tries not to let that hurt. But it does, just a little. Which is selfish, he knows, because if Nate had felt the same way one of the first times he told him - before he came out - then he just must not have been comfortable about all that. Still, it stings slightly, like his ache was pointless._

_‘I wanted to bring it up like 15 times since then’_

_‘Fuck oh my god me too’_

_‘we are idiots’_

_‘We really fucking are’_

-

Having food in front of him manages to serve as some sort of distraction, at least. For the most part, Mikey can almost make himself pretend that none of the past few months even happened. He still feels too distant from Nate, like it’s not all _there,_ but it at least feels almost like a normal afternoon with a friend. So, not necessarily a normal afternoon for them, but beggars can’t be choosers.

At the absolute very least, he’s able to carry on a conversation and look at Nate _most_ of the time, and it doesn’t feel like he’s about to lose every fry he eats. It could go worse, all things considered.

“So,” Nate says and sets his fork down on his now empty plate, “if you want I can show you around some of the places the guys have showed me? Binghamton isn’t like, the biggest or coolest place, but it’s got some cool stuff. Well, not cool, really, but-”

“Sure, Bas,” and for the first time Mikey’s smile isn’t forced. It may only be slight, but it’s a step in the right direction. Maybe it was the distance after all. Maybe he can still fix this and save them both.

“Awesome. You’re gonna love some of this shit, like, okay well some of the things _I_ found and they’re not really all that interesting, but I like them a lot. I like _you_ a lot, so I wanted you to see them too.”

“Yeah,” Mikey nods, and it feels like he can’t breathe.

-

_It feels sudden. It’s not, not really._

_It takes less than two weeks for four years of feelings to whittle down into nothing. Into less than nothing._

_The hollow ache in his chest is back, but it isn’t loneliness this time. He doesn’t even know what the term for it would possibly be. How in the hell he could define this. How in the hell it even happened in the first place._

_How he went from being so overly goddamn happy that he went out on a walk at three in the morning in January, to sitting there staring at seven unopened messages and two missed calls, pretending it’s okay._

_How it went from “I’m in love with Nate and that’s just how it is, Ryan. I’ve come to terms with it” to feeling almost physically ill any time Nate tells him he loves him._

_For the third time since that night, he watches his phone ring in his hand, the sound mocking him as he stares at the screen until it fades away, a missed call notification bringing it back to life momentarily._

_It was a progression, he knows this, just doesn’t fucking remember any of it. Doesn’t remember thinking to himself ‘oh, what if I don’t feel this anymore after all?’ or ‘what if I never did?’ He knows he must have, because you can’t just fucking blink and fall out of love with your best friend and the most important person in your world. You just can’t._

_And yet? He leaves texts unanswered. Lets phone calls go to voicemail. Responds to Nate’s genuine ‘I love you’s with ‘ily2’ no matter how much else was in the message. Occasionally he’ll throw in a ‘u r 2’ if it fits._

_‘You’re so important to me dude you’re the best’_

_‘u r too buddy ily’_

_‘Sorry for being so sappy all the time’_

_‘it’s ok. get some rest’_

_He can’t believe this, doesn’t want to. Wants to close his eyes and open them again and watch Nate hang the stars in the sky like he always does. Wants the butterflies to wake up. Wants to want._

_It’s not fair. This isn’t fair to him, or to Nate, and he has to hope that it gets better._

_It must just be the surprise of requited feelings, or something. That’s a thing, right?_

_It has to be._

_Please, let it be._

-

He’s not ready to be this close to Nate. Looking at him was a big step, so sitting shoulder to shoulder on a park bench a little ways down a hiking path is too much. Mikey wants to cry again. There’s too goddamn much going on right now, and his brain is on overdrive and his heart feels as stone cold as the metal of the bench’s leg pressed against his ankle.

Nate’s hand in his feels like it always has, not soft enough to call it that, but also soft enough to make it difficult to define in any other way. They’re exactly like Nate in that way, he thinks.

The winter hasn’t wanted to end, dragging itself on as long as it possibly can, digging its eerily long, frosty fingers into the grass when it seems like it’s finally warm enough for flowers to bloom. Those flowers have been trying, and yet it’s obvious that very few have succeeded. The trees should have leaves by now, he notes absently. They’re still just bare. The air bites at his cheeks like it’s still January, like he’s on a walk at three in the morning and he’s in love.

Except he’s not. It’s after seven in the afternoon, and he’s on a park bench in a park he doesn’t know in a city that isn’t his, and he’s not in love.

“I love you,” Nate says softly.

Mikey bites back a bitter laugh. “I love you too,” he replies anyway, knowing it doesn’t sound genuine - more of a reflex than anything.

“I missed you,” he continues, and Mikey chances a glance over at him, but Nate’s staring up at the sky. “I know it hasn’t been that long since I saw you, but like, _god,_ Mikey. You’re-” he swallows and looks over at Mikey again “-my everything. I dunno.”

“Yeah,” he says, and he feels like he’s a ghost. His words are nothing but a gust of air, and he’s no more than a bit of static that makes your hair stand on end for seemingly no reason, or a small space as cold as an early morning in January. Blink and you’ll miss the crying figure at the end of the hall. People say he’s been empty for so long that he just lingers there, weeping, saying words that once meant everything. Standing there, saying them until they mean nothing. And they mean nothing, and he weeps, and you feel his sorrow if you come too close.

He’s an epidemic of fucking sadness.

“I- me too. You’re- everything,” and he says them, and they mean nothing.

“Mikey?”

It takes a moment, but he wills himself to look over at his friend, and he hears his ringtone blaring in his ears, but his phone is in the car. Nate’s smiling, and Mikey’s stomach is a stormy ocean with wild waves strong enough to knock him over - but they don’t. Nate’s mouth is on his and he’s frozen like the struggling flowers, and the ringtone is fighting the blood rushing in his ears - a too loud competition that blurs together.

Mikey pulls back abruptly after what felt like hours for him, but could not have fathomably been any longer than a handful of seconds.

“Why did you kiss me?” he demands before he can even think not to, and he can feel that his eyes are too wide, too panicked, and he can’t fucking _breathe_ and he wants to shove Nate away, wants to go home. Wants to never have come here, never have had that conversation, never have told Nate he felt the same, never, never, never.

“I-” and Nate looks so confused, so fucking _hurt,_ and Mikey put that look on his face. He’s tried so hard to avoid this, to pretend like they’d just ignore it forever and never talk about it and now. And now he doesn’t think any amount of scrubbing will get the ghost of Nate’s kiss to go away. “I thought-”

“No,” he shakes his head too quickly and stands up, running his hands through his hair too many times, and he starts pacing, because the shelves full of the past several months of bottled up stress have been knocked over, releasing itself as raw energy. He’s shaking and he can’t stop talking. “No Nate, I don’t- I can’t. I don’t fucking. _Fuck._ You can’t-” he takes a deep breath, and he doesn’t feel like he’s crying, but his cheeks are too hot “-you can’t. I don’t love you. Not. Not like that, okay? I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“But you said-”

“I lied.”

“You-”

“Lied. Yeah, I did, and I’m sorry.”

He deflates, and Nate is crying too.

“I lied,” he says again, barely above a whisper, like he’s trying to convince himself. Because he is. Here he stands, weeping, saying words that mean nothing, and there Nate sits, too close - feeling Mikey’s sorrow as his own.

-

_He doesn’t know who else to go to. He can’t go to Ryan, not when he’s so close to Nate, too. Not when Mikey doesn’t know if it’ll end up passing or not. Sure, it’s been two months and still no dice, but he can hope._

_He has to hope._

_(He doesn’t believe, though.)_

_‘dyls I’m so fucked’_

_‘what else is new dude’_

_‘u know how like. I kept tryin not to have the thing for nater’_

_‘yeah that was dumb’_

_‘ok well now I don’t’_

_‘what are you talking abt clouder’_

_‘I don’t know’_

_‘helpful.’_

_He makes a face at his phone, just wishing it was easier to find a way to word it. There aren’t any, not when he keeps trying to avoid thinking about it in the first place._

_‘he told me he felt the same and now I don’t’_

_‘shit dude’_

_‘yeah’_

_‘but like it happens man’_

_‘not to me. not with nate.’_

-

They don’t talk much off ice. It’s what Mikey deserves, he knows this. If he were to be honest, he’s getting off lightly here. As much as he very much so did not actually want it, not seeing or talking to Nate is what he said he wanted. This is what he asked for.

But _Nate._

Nate doesn’t deserve any of this.

At least it doesn’t last long. The season ends, and Nate gets to go home, and not have to look at or think about Mikey until prospect camp, so he’ll get over it too. He has to. Mikey wants him to feel okay more than anything.

The absolute last thing he wanted to do was hurt Nate, and now it seems like exactly that will be their absolute last actual interaction. God, he can’t stop fucking up, can he?

He doesn’t get to go home. Doesn’t get the comfort of his family and his home and familiarity - instead he gets shipped off for the second time this month, this time off to Jersey. Not that it matters. The series is all but over, and then it _is_ over, and then Mikey’s finally going home.

It hasn’t even been that long.

Ryan and Matt are at the airport waiting for him, and he tries not to think about the last time he was met at an airport. Tries not to get nauseous, and plasters a somewhat genuine smile on his face.

-

_Every text that goes unanswered feels like a punch in the face._

_Usually that isn’t something the person doing the ghosting feels, he thinks. Pretty sure that’s supposed to be the way it feels to be ignored._

_His other option - reply, obviously - feels like a punch to the gut. A lose - lose situation, a hole he can’t dig himself out of, two steps forward fifteen fucking steps back._

_There’s a balance there, he finds. It goes like this, a few ignored texts and many ignored calls, then answer a few. It’s like the same principle as pinching your arm to distract from other pain elsewhere. You feel the punches to the face a little less when it’s only been your stomach for a while and vice versa._

_It probably makes no sense, but there aren’t any other options._

-

The thing about being home, he learns, is how every single thing reminds him of Nate. He’s touched every single part of Mikey’s life in some way. It makes his heart ache, and he thinks he could still be in love, if he just tried hard enough. Because that’s what it has to be. He just didn’t _try_ to love Nate. He let it happen and then when it felt like it could continue to take its course - Nate along for the ride, now - he didn’t put forth the effort.

Instead, he ignored him. As though that would help.

Nothing feels like it’s helping.

He couldn’t have tried harder, not when he did all he could do and none of it made sense and none of it makes sense and Nate is gone and he still feels fucking nothing. Except for where he does, but it isn’t love, not in the way it used to be.

But it is still love, he decides.

If Mikey didn’t still love Nate in some capacity, he wouldn’t care that Nate got caught in the crossfire of his own stupid fucking mess. Instead, he spent months before it even happened aching for him, and every single moment since regretting it. Nate deserves better, he does, and that says enough, right?

_I’m sorry_

He doesn’t blame Nate if he doesn’t respond, doesn’t blame him if he never speaks to him again outside of what’s absolutely necessary.

But that isn’t Nate. That’s Mikey.

_I’m hurt but I miss you_

God. Mikey misses him too.

_come over?_

_Now?_

_sure_

_Okay_

He has so much to apologise for, so much to explain, and nowhere near enough words in the world could cover it. None of them could properly cover how he cries the moment Nate steps out of his car, or how he holds out his arms as an invitation that Nate actually takes.

He’s missed Nate so much, so fucking much. And maybe he’s not _in love_ with him anymore, but this? He still loves him. He really does, and it feels like the little rips in his chest are starting to mend themselves.

“I lied,” Mikey says into his shoulder, “about lying. That night- I meant it when I said it, but.”

“But?”

“Not now,” he whispers, and Nate freezes in his arms, and Mikey just wants the ache to stop for both of them. Just wants this to fucking end.

“Oh,” Nate pulls away, and Mikey holds onto his arms, right above the elbow.

“I don’t- I don’t know why. But I love you. I still love you.”

And he says these words, and they mean something.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm missing any tags or warnings please do let me know because I'm still really bad at that
> 
> but uh okay yeah so this is. so ridiculously fuckin personal ha ha - most of the stuff in italics are direct quotes from me n my friend except replace 4 years with 6 so. yeah. this was mostly me just venting about being a bad person sorry @ mikey for projecting once again
> 
> well, hope you enjoyed it anyway lol and big thanks to lotts for helpin me through writing this
> 
> catch me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/alcoholnregret) and [tumblr](http://www.sidnate.tumblr.com)


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